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The next moment he was slammed against the brick wall. His face hit the rough brick and he felt several cuts opening on his face. His pistol smashed into the brick and he felt something snap. The collision had been so sudden that he felt sick to his stomach.
He turned, eyed the man still lying on the ground, dead asleep. The attack had not come from there.
“Decker!”
Decker regained his equilibrium, cleared his head, and looked back.
Mars was dodging out of the way of a knife strike, as the man who had clocked Decker moved in for the kill. He was small but wiry, and his movements were laser quick and precise.
Decker hurtled forward, and when the man turned the knife on him, he pointed his gun and fired at his leg.
Absolutely nothing happened. The impact with the wall must have damaged the weapon.
The next instant the man kicked the gun out of Decker’s hand, then drove his fist into Decker’s gut, doubling him over.
Decker staggered back at the same moment that Mars hit the man from behind so hard that he was lifted off his feet, flew forward, and slammed into the wall. He was up in an instant, though, and whirled around, the blade in his hand.
He charged after Mars and slashed him on the arm. Mars fell back and the man was about to cut him again when Decker launched forward and wrapped his big arms around the assailant, pinning his arms and the knife to his sides. Under the illumination of the lights attached to the buildings, he could see that, despite the cold, the man’s muscled forearms were exposed, and covered in tats—words and symbols.
A few seconds of struggle later, the man slammed the back of his head against Decker’s face. Blood flew out of Decker’s nose and mouth. Then the man was able to point the knife downward and jam it into Decker’s thigh. Decker cried out and released the man, who hit the ground running and soon disappeared from sight as the sirens grew closer. Decker put a hand over his leg wound.
Mars ran forward, took off his windbreaker, and wrapped it around Decker’s thigh.
Decker said, “Are you okay?”
“He didn’t get me bad. Who the hell was that guy?”
“He’s the one who shot Sally Brimmer.”
“You have any idea why?”
“The only idea I have is that he was trying to shoot me. And she just got in the way.”
